I love you always
by Kristaismyname
Summary: What happens when Helga fakes her own death and disappears for 10 years? *rated M for language, violence, and possibly future scenes...
1. Help! I need somebody!

Tonight was the night he would tell her everything.

He knew she needed a reason to stay; a reason to keep fighting, and tonight he was going to tell her he loved her. Arnold Shortman knew he only had a short time before Helga did something stupid like take her life; he had to reach her.

Arnold recalled the cryptic message Helga left on his phone:

_'It's me, Helga. I have to get out. Bob has gone too far this time. I love you, always.'_

Arnold knew about Helga's dad. Helga had showed up at Arnold's door on her fifteenth birthday. They had become close by then, since Gerald and Phoebe started dating. She was sobbing and covered in bruises. Silently, he led her into his house and cleaned her up. Against his own wishes, he had never told anyone about the incident, not even his grandfather. That was three years ago and her father's beatings had expanded. Now was he not only beating Helga, but everyone, including Olga and her mother.

Arnold berated himself as he ran. If only Arnold had been home ten minutes earlier, he could have talked her out of whatever she was planning. He had to keep running; he had to reach Helga before she did something really stupid.

He stopped running as he reached Helga's front porch. Arnold knew something was wrong. The place was shrouded in darkness and it was eerily quiet. He opened the front door.

"Helga?"

"What do you want asshole, she's not here!" Arnold tensed as the voice from the living room called out to him. Helga's father: he would recognize that voice from anywhere. He heard him take a chug from his beer can and stand.

"Mr. Pataki, do you know where she went?"

He stepped into the hallway and walked toward him. He struck Arnold, but Arnold stood his ground, after all, this wasn't the first time he was hit by a Pataki. He looked around him, seeing blood on Bob's knuckles and Miriam, the stay-at-home mother, was nowhere to be found. Arnold panicked and he brought his knee up to Bob's groin as hard as he could and then connected his fist to Bob's nose. Arnold knew this wouldn't keep Mr. Pataki down for long as he sprinted out of the dilapidated house and ran. Arnold did not stop running until he knew Mr. Pataki would not pursue him. He had to find Helga and he had to find her quickly.

He reached the lake he and Helga frequented. They seemed to visit here every day after Mr. Pataki became more physically abusive.

Arnold saw the tire tracks leading towards the pier. Arnold called the police. He fell to his knees as he saw Helga's silver Buick slowly sinking deeper into the middle of the lake.

The police arrived quickly and began to comb the lake as much as they could. They even checked Elk Island, but they never found her.

_'Helga it's me, Arnold. I should have protected you. I love you, always."_

Arnold stared out his window, recalling the night Helga left him. That was ten years ago and he could still remember it clearly, like it was yesterday.

"Mr. Shortman, your 10 o'clock appointment is here to see you." Stacy, his secretary, chimed in over the speaker phone, successfully knocking Arnold out of his reverie. Arnold looked at his clock: 9:45, early, he liked that.

He stood, straightened his tie and fixed his hair. He straightened his slacks and began his walk into the lobby.

"Pat Legalkine" Arnold called out into the lobby. A tall, young blonde woman stood and approached him. Arnold pretended to look disinterested in the woman before him. He didn't look up from his file folder as he led her into his office.

"Have a seat Ms. Legalkine." He told her, still reading through his folder. She sat, like she was told, and patiently waited for Mr. Shortman to actually acknowledge her existence.

"So Ms. Legalkine, you need a house built, is that correct?" Arnold began, still refusing to look at her, as he began to pull blueprints out of his desk drawer.

"Arnold, if you are going to talk to me, I would really appreciate it if you actually looked at me for once." The young woman started, crossing her arms across her chest.

"That's Mr. Short-" Arnold began, finally looking at the blonde before him.

"Stacy" he said into his intercom, "cancel all my appointments for the rest of the day."

"But, Mr. Shortman," the plump secretary began, as she nervously fiddled with her graying hair, "what about Mr. Wong?"

"Did I stutter, Mrs. Pillman?" Arnold replied. "Tell him I've come down with a nasty stomach bug and we will reschedule for tomorrow"

"Yes, Mr. Shortman, as you wish."

He disconnected from his secretary and stared at the woman before him.

"Alright Helga, we need to talk."


	2. Crying, Waiting, Hoping

**Hey everyone! I'm really excited to see that this Fanfiction is getting some great feedback! I'm really glad to see so many people like it, even though it is dark (and I promise there will be darker chapters later…). Hopefully you guys won't hate me for it! (I have read all your reviews, and I promise I will try to answer as many questions as possible in future chapters!) Remember to R&R, it helps me update faster!**

**Disclaimer: I don't Hey Arnold or any of its characters/settings/ etc.**

**And without further ado: Chapter 2:**

"I have no idea what you're talking about football head." Helga said as she pushed her hair out of her face.

"Really? You don't feel like there's some unfinished business here? Why are you here anyways?" Arnold asked, shoving himself away from his desk to stand and pace around the room.

Helga shrugged, "I guess you haven't read the paper today, Arnoldo."

"Of course I have read the paper Helga! I read the paper every morning!" Arnold replied, pounding his fist on the desk. "I don't understand what the paper has to do with you appearing again, all of a sudden!"

Helga calmly pulled out the newspaper from her bag and threw it across the desk. Arnold sat and silently began to read what she tossed in front of him. She decided to take the opportunity of Arnold reading to finally take a look around his office.

It was huge! A large wooden desk sat towards the back, in front of a large window looking out into the skyline. Helga sat in one of the two large leather chairs in front of Arnold's desk. She noticed he had two book shelves on opposite sides of the room and a small closet to her right. She noticed five pictures in his office: one of his grandpa and grandma, one of his parents, one of Gerald and Phoebe (that looked to be a Christmas card) and two that were framed on his desk that she couldn't see. She sighed and hoped they weren't pictures of Lila. Finally, her eyes rested on Arnold. She realized he didn't look that much different physically: His eyes were still green, his hair was still blonde, and his face was still oddly-shaped. He was still muscular; although he had his hair slicked back and was wearing a suit. She noticed however that his eyes didn't light up like they used to; there was no life left in him if you saw just his eyes. That would have to be remedied, Helga thought to herself.

"So….your dad is dead?" Arnold asked, slowly looking up at Helga and effectively pulling Helga out of her thoughts.

"Yep, Big Bob is dead, something along the lines of a heart attack? I don't know I stopped reading after I knew for certain it was my father!" Helga said, standing to look around Arnold's office some more.

"Why did you do it Helga? Why did you spend 10 years making everyone think you were dead?"

"You read Eleanor Shortz?" Helga asked, trying to avoid telling Arnold anything but the reason why she left. She picked up one of the books and returned to her chair. Arnold sighed, knowing Helga wouldn't talk if she didn't want to and he decided he would appease her.

"Yes, Helga, I read Eleanor Shortz. I enjoy her stories, they're real and she reminds me a lot of someone I used to really care about."

Helga looked at him then; her cerulean eyes met his green ones for a moment.

"That's why I always enjoyed her too, Arnold. It's like she can read my mind sometimes." Helga said softly, placing the book on his desk.

"So, why did you come back?" Arnold asked her, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest.

"I had to make sure he was gone, really truly gone, you know…so that he wouldn't hurt anyone anymore."

Arnold looked up shocked. He didn't think Helga would willingly give information so easily. He had forgotten how soft and vulnerable she could be. That's one of the reasons he fell in love with her all those years ago.

"Helga, I…"

"Whatever football head, it's over… let's just forget about it!" Helga said suddenly balling her fist. "I wanna hear about you, what have you been up to these past ten years?"

"I became a CEO of a major Architectural firm, Helga." Arnold replied as he swept his hand out in front of him to prove his point. "I am wealthy, and I live in a large apartment on the east side."

"That's it? That's all you've done for ten years?" Helga asked, surprised he didn't say married with a family.

Arnold frowned. This was, after all, the first time someone hadn't been impressed with his wealth and status in the company.

"What do you mean 'that's it?' Helga, I spent the last ten years of my life trying to become successful and wealthy."

"Is that all you care about Arnold, money and status?" Helga asked quietly.

"No, of course not!" Arnold replied, as he turned in his chair, facing away from Helga.

"Right. Well Phoebe, Tall-hair-boy and I are going to get some drinks tonight at Moe's around seven, if you want to join us." Helga offered as she stood to leave.

" Can't. I have to work, I'm going to have so much to catch up on now that I've wasted, what an hour talking to you?"

That was the last straw for Helga. She had tolerated his rudeness and she had tolerated his cockiness. But she would not, and could not, tolerate his lack of compassion towards the people he once loved.

"You've changed, Arnold. You haven't smiled once since I got here! All you care about is your stupid business! You've lost everything that made you Arnold: your niceness, your compassion, your optimism! Hell you can't even talk to people without coming off as an arrogant jackass. You're mean and you couldn't give two shits about other people. Call me when you wake up from this nightmare Arnold. I'm going to hang out with _our_ friends."

With that Helga slammed the door and left Arnold's office.

'Same old Helga' he thought to himself.

Arnold sighed as he ran a hand across his face and through his hair. He looked down at the two pictures on his desk. The first one was taken on Arnold's 18th birthday. It was him with his arms around Helga, one of the times he truly remembered her being happy. The second one was just Helga, right after she turned 18 and placed in a frame which read "I love you always." The picture was taken without her knowledge and was one of the last times Arnold saw her. She had been writing in a journal during the camping trip the gang (her, Gerald, Phoebe, and Arnold) all took together. She looked so peaceful in that picture, so happy. It was one of Arnold's favorites, and even though they were never officially romantically involved, he kept it on his desk and close to his heart.


	3. I'm not half the man I used to be

Arnold watched from the door as his three closest friends shared laughs and drinks at the bar. Gerald was now a tall black man with an afro and a goatee. He still wore athletic clothing, and since he was the basketball coach at Hillwood University, Arnold guessed that his attire was appropriate. Phoebe's hair was longer, but other than that she hadn't changed much. She was still the smartest (and the shortest) person that Arnold knew and she was a professor in the Hillwood University biology department.

His eyes finally focused on Helga: her long legs that fit perfectly in her tight jeans, her black shirt hugging her curves, and her long blonde hair cascading in waves down her back. Her blue eyes were still as bright as ever and he realized just how much he missed them. As he stared, her head turned away from him and he followed her gaze. A man, a stranger, was trying to talk to her. From the looks of it, he was trying to buy her a drink or two.

He felt something inside him, something he hadn't felt in a long time. What was that emotion? He couldn't place it, all he knew was that his insides were boiling and he felt angry, scared, and that he needed to protect her all at the same time. He watched them for a moment, realizing that Helga's body language was getting more and more tension. He rushed to the bar, just as she stood.

He put himself physically between the two, trying to intervene before it got out of hand, and felt a fist connecting to his jaw.

"Hey if you're going to do that you're out, you hear me?" The bartender scolded. The group nodded in reply.

"Damnit Helga, what did you do that for?" Arnold asked, rubbing his jaw.

"Well Arnoldo, if you were five minutes earlier, you would have heard this guy say some pretty derogatory things to me. I decided to let old Betsy take care of the situation for me, since I had repeatedly told him no and he still didn't get the hint. That's when you showed up and I accidentally punched you instead. Although, it's not like you didn't deserve a good punch in the face!"

"Why is that Helga?" He asked, trying to ignore the smile that was forming on Gerald's face.

"Nevermind, let's just have a couple drinks and forget the whole thing."

"What happened to work?" Gerald piped in.

"I left." Arnold replied, curtly before sitting down at the bar with the gang.

"So Helga, where did you stay and how did you know Big Bob had died?" Phoebe exclaimed. She hadn't seen her friend for ten years and she needed answers!

"I stayed on Elk Island," Helga stated calmly as she shrugged, "with Agatha Caulfield."

"Really? But the police looked there and they questioned Agatha and they didn't find anything!" Gerald shouted, growing more excited at the new tale he would have in the recesses of his mind. "And besides, Agatha is kind of a bitch!"

"You know during World War II when the jews had to hide in attics and stuff…it was similar to that. And she was a bitch, Gerald." Helga corrected. "Someone must have talked some sense into her a long time ago."

With that comment, everyone looked at Arnold. Helga smirked, but Gerald and Phoebe frowned as they all recalled the person Arnold used to be.

"Yes, but that was a long time ago." Phoebe said quietly. Arnold heard her.

It never bothered him when Phoebe and Gerald made comments like this before. It wasn't until Helga stormed back into his life that he realized he was not being Arnold, and the comments from Phoebe and Gerald only helped to affirm what Helga had said earlier. What was it about Helga G. Pataki that made him see the person he had become? Was it her abrasive personality or the fact that she didn't tolerate his crap, knowing who he was previously? Arnold realized he was now the epitome of zombie; walking around, but dead on the inside. He shook his head, this Arnold simply wouldn't do. He knew what needed to be done, it was going to be rocky but some things needed to change.

"So Helga, where are you staying?" Arnold asked, trying to remove himself from his thoughts and release the tension that had started to grow since he arrived.

"I'm going to stay with the Johanssens, Footballhead. What's it to you?"

Footballhead, Arnold had missed that.

"Stay with me tonight. I've got a big apartment and plenty of space, besides, I could use some company."

Gerald stopped what he was doing in order to stare at Arnold. This meant that his beer bottle was inches from his face and he was not going to be taking a drink any time soon. Helga looked away, thinking.

"Whatever floats your boat Footballhead." She replied eventually, "It's not like I want to listen to those two going at it all night anyways."

Gerald looked away while Phoebe blushed.

"Helga." Arnold chastised, a frown forming on his face.

"So do you still write?" Phoebe asked her, desperately trying to change the subject.

"Wait, you write?" Gerald gasped; he and Helga were obviously never very close. Helga and Phoebe smiled and the two shared a knowing look.

"Of course she still writes!" Arnold retorted, looking towards Helga for confirmation. "Right, Helga?"

"I dabble, nothing major." Helga replied, staring down at her beer.

"That's a shame, you were exquisite!" Phoebe replied, with a smile. After all this time, not much had changed between the two girls. Phoebe could still tell when Helga was lying.

The gang continued to talk for hours. They asked Helga questions, some of which she answered. They talked about Gerald and Phoebe's three children, two boys and a girl. Mostly they talked about what Helga missed over the past ten years: Rhonda moving to New York, Curly being placed in the local asylum, Eugene working for the local theatre, Harold taking over for Mr. Green when he became too old and sick to keep working, and even how Lila had moved to California and married some rich movie star, who apparently wasn't very interesting to talk to.

Helga yawned and looked at her watch: two in the morning. Great! Helga could just feel the hangover coming on.

"Arnold, I think it's time to go." Helga said as she stood and grabbed her coat.

"Right." The group stood to leave as Arnold and Gerald paid everyone's bill. Gerald put out his fist, thumb in the air. Arnold stared at it for a moment, and eventually, he awkwardly returned the handshake, putting a large, toothy smile on Gerald's face.

"This is going to take a while isn't it, Arnold?" Gerald asked as he put his hands in his pockets and walking towards the door to where the women were waiting.

"Yeah, Gerald, it will" Arnold replied, staring at the two women. From what he could hear, they were passionately discussing ice cream. Arnold just shook his head; he would never understand women.

"Glad to see you're attempting to come back to the land of the living, Arnold. We missed you." Gerald smiled and patted Arnold on the back. "I think maybe Helga G. Pataki might be good for you…and that's coming from me."

"I think you might be right, Gerald."


End file.
